


Pieced Together

by Hildigunnur



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-21
Updated: 2006-09-21
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10787409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hildigunnur/pseuds/Hildigunnur
Summary: The trio can make a team but when they come together like pieces in a puzzle, they make a whole.





	Pieced Together

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015.
> 
> Written 2006 for the Reversathon on livejournal. Betaread by sarka and lokrur.

Harry had been on the same page of the manuscript he was reading for about an hour. Though the script was written in an archaic language with gothic letters, it wasn't the reason for his slow reading; he was distracted and had every right to be, as the chances were that he would be dead tomorrow.

His imminent death wasn't the cause of his distraction, though; he was carefully watching Ron's attempts to balance a pencil on his upper lip. Clearly, Ron was as enthusiastic about those horrible, old manuscripts as he was.

This was Hermione's idea. During the long hours they'd been locked in at the library, it had occurred to Harry more than once that she wasn't sure what she was doing. Not being able to flee to the safety of the Hogwarts library, she'd just found a substitute for it.

Security.

Hermione felt secure when she was doing something, knee-deep in research and practice. Ron felt secure when he didn't feel he had to prove something.

He felt secure with them.

Having them at his side completed him, more than anything.

Hermione huffed, pushing a lock of her hair from her face. She liked research but he couldn't help thinking that even she could get fed up with going through tomes of spells and potion recipes in Latin.

She was doing this for him. And the Wizarding World. There was nothing that said she had to do it, to read all these books; someone else could just as easily have done it. This was his fight after all, his responsibility.

That was why it amazed him that Ron and Hermione still kept slaving away by his side. Maybe Ron wasn't exactly slaving right this minute but he did pull his weight. It wasn't like anyone else was there with him. He even suspected there were not that many who would care to join them. Luna and Neville perhaps. Ginny, though he wasn't entirely sure.

Ginny.

He had managed to fuck that right up.

She had looked beautiful at Bill's and Fleur's wedding. Seeing her, his brain had started to make silly similes; that she was like a wild summer flower or a glowing wood nymph. Unfortunately, under the influence of mead and Firewhisky, he had uttered this to her as they sat under a tree, concealed from the rest of the wedding party.

That wasn't how he’d fucked it up. Nor had he fucked it up when he pulled her towards him, kissing her neck, touching her.

When he’d pulled back, she gazed at him with all the hope in the world in her eyes; that he had forgotten his heroism, that the Dark Lord be damned, that he would find a way for them to have again what they had before Dumbledore's death.

And it wasn't something he could give her. He’d sobered up quickly.

Ginny had furrowed her brow and he’d seen on her face what she was expecting; that she knew him well enough to know that he was about to break her heart for the second time.

He’d panicked. He hadn't wanted to do that again but he’d had to, there was no way he could live with himself if she was killed. They couldn't afford the luxury of clandestine meetings and spending time alone like they were doing now.

"Ginny, I can't … you know how dangerous this is."

She’d frowned as she twisted herself out of his arms.

"Do you think I do this because I want to self-destruct and for us to be some kind of tragic lovers?"

The word _No_ had automatically found its way to the tip of his tongue but he hadn't meant it really and she’d known it. The silence had turned painful in a split second as her eyes had darkened over.

"Harry, I can't believe you."

Her voice had been audibly strained. It was over and he’d known it was the only fair thing to do.

"I'm sorry."

He’d risen quickly and left her and that was the last he'd seen of her.

It didn't occur to him that she would forgive him. Ever. That was something he didn't deserve.

Sighing, he turned over a page in the manuscript and looked over at Ron. The pencil was long forgotten and there was a content grin on Ron's face, telling Harry that there was a game of footsie being played under the table. Hermione didn't show any outward signs, though, except for a couple of little jerks, as if she were suppressing a bout of giggles.

Scenes like that always threw him into a weird kind of turmoil and as Ron and Hermione were gradually shifting into an established relationship. There was a mix of relief, regret and a strong pang of jealousy, even though he tried to suppress that feeling with all his might.

-o-

Ron Weasley was a bloke in love. He felt like he'd always been in love. Once he'd fought against his feelings. Once he'd believed it was for the best that he tried to forget them.

Well, he'd always been a little mad.

There was no way he could concentrate on the work at hand; it had been a lost cause from the start.

Researching manuscripts – while it made sense to someone like Hermione, he would much rather jump into the fray and get his hands dirty.

Unfortunately, the research appeared to be necessary for them if they entertained any hope of succeeding. He would be a fool to think otherwise.

Hermione showed no intention of giving in to his attempts to distract her. It was obvious that she didn't resent his attempts but her single-mindedness to get to the task at hand was, in his opinion, one of her sexier aspects.

Granted, it was a quality he best enjoyed when she attempted something like kissing every single freckle on his body.

He had to admit defeat soon enough. If they hadn’t been in a Muggle library he would have gone somewhere to practice spells instead of dying of boredom.

Harry seemed to be just as bored. It was a relief actually that someone else thought that those Muggles were frightfully dull. How could something this ridiculous be so boring? Then again, Professor Binns had managed to make Uric the Oddball appear as interesting as a flobberworm.

Looking over at Harry his heart sank a tiny bit. He looked melancholy and he really had been since Bill's and Fleur wedding. Ron did wonder why. Hermione had mentioned that he and Ginny were having some sort of a disagreement but she seemed unsure about the details.

The break-up as such should've made him upset, seeing how they were his best friend and his little sister. But it didn't - not in that way at least.

He was used to suppress uncomfortable truths about his feelings and he mentally silenced the voice inside him telling him that Harry breaking up with Ginny provided an opportunity.

This wasn't normal. He was in love with Hermione – had been for a long time - and now she was his girlfriend.

It was preposterous to think that Harry could be a part of that particular equation.

"Just look at Harry – he's a bloke like you. You like girls." But telling himself that appeared to have the opposite effect; he couldn't stop thinking about it.

-o-

Horcruxes had pretty much occupied Hermione's mind, ever since she'd learned about their existence. Most of her waking hours were spent thinking about them, studying them, researching them and generally trying to figure them out. She felt like she'd been handed an ultimate problem to solve and therefore she felt that every second not spent on it was a moment ill spent. Save for perhaps a handful of moments she spent kissing Ron.

As she'd been the only one in her year at Hogwarts, probably the only student in years, who had listened to Professor Binns at all she knew that Muggles had sources about magic, particularly from the time of the witch hunts. Muggles had been obsessed with the evils of magic and witchcraft; she’d thought that they might have something about horcruxes in their literature as an example to prove how perverted, and against everything that was holy, magic really was.

It didn't take long for her to see that the boys didn't have their hearts in their research at the moment. This became even more apparent when Ron started running his foot up and down her leg.

She knew she ought to tell him off for interrupting her but how could she? Seeing how she was still at that stage where the mere sight of him made her giddy, it was simply wrong to tell him to stop.

One time she had thought she would never feel this way; never be so deliriously in love. To this point, love had been, at best, uncomfortable. It had hurt to love Ron.

Then there had been Viktor. She ought to have been in love with him. He had never treated her with anything but respect and had always obeyed when she asked him to stop when he was getting too physical for her comfort.

Things should have ended between them long before he'd left Hogwarts but she had been so afraid of breaking his heart. Distance had put sense into him, though, for he had soon realised how one-sided their affair had been. He had become her confidant instead and she’d divulged many things to him, things she didn't want to tell anyone else.

Regarding Ron, Viktor had always advised her to err on the side of caution. In many ways, he had been afraid of her being rejected. A fear that had been realized when she'd written to him about Ron and Lavender Brown.

She shook her head almost automatically when her train of thought turned to Ron and Lavender. Even now, when she and Ron were together and Lavender all but forgotten, the jealousy still rose like a huge wave inside of her.

It was incredible how much this had affected her. Thank god for the influence of Ginny and Harry – having them around had made it bearable. There had been moments, late at night in the girls' dormitory, when she’d had to fight hard the urge to hex Lavender as she was confessing to Parvati what had transpired between her and Ron.

Hermione didn't like her hateful, malicious side, but at times she couldn't help acting on her dark impulses. She’d never beat herself up about it though.

-o-

It wasn't a long walk from the library to Grimmauld Place – they could not Apparate or use the Floo-network if they wanted to avoid being detected. The boys had often suggested broom sticks but Hermione had vetoed that every single time. Instead, the underground and the railway system of Britain had become their chief mode of transportation to places outside walking distance.

But that particular, warm September evening the walk was refreshing after the long day of research. Harry and Ron were relieved to be outside and were being perhaps a little too silly for Hermione's sensibilities.

Ron was giving Harry a piggy-back ride but wasn't handling the extra weight well and kept crashing into Hermione.

After almost being pushed into a heap of garbage bags she told them to stop.

Harry offered to give her a piggy-back rid but she rolled her eyes.

Harry and Ron didn't give up; they dragged her into an off-license under the pretext of buying crisps and chocolate but the next thing she knew they had their hands full with bottles of beer. She had hardly opened her mouth to protest when the boys told her to loosen up, that they deserved to relax.

And it ended up being her job to pay for the beverages as she was the only one who had turned 18 and the only one who had a Muggle ID.

Perhaps that was the reason she threw in a bottle of Sambuca.

-o-

That drink Hermione had bought smelled interestingly, though the clear colour and consistency reminded Harry of Veritaserum. Ron, apparently, wasn't as concerned with the fact and was downing shots at an alarming rate.

It wasn't his place, though, to criticize Ron's drinking as he had already drunk a couple of beers which tasted lovely and refreshing despite their bitter taste that was wildly different from the sweet taste of butterbeer. His fingers had started to tingle and his tongue felt somewhat too big for his mouth. He seemed to be a horrible light-weight, a bad thing without a doubt, but at the moment he didn't care.

Hermione, on the other hand, was pretty much holding her own drinking the Sambuca, compared to Ron.

With every shot, they seemed to become more amorous – touching, kissing – some articles of clothing being removed, thrown haphazardly around them on the bed.

Harry knew he was supposed to feel embarrassed by this but he really didn't. Instead, a mix of other emotions filled him – curiosity, arousal, envy, loneliness – so many that he almost felt sick. He knew he should look away and allow them privacy but neither of them appeared to mind the voyeur. Drinking another beer he watched as Ron's hand closed over Hermione's breast, kneading it, catching glimpses of the soft flesh between the fingers.

Crossing his legs in a vain attempt to conceal his growing erection he fought the urge to open his trousers.

At that moment, Ron and Hermione together was the most beautiful, erotic sight he had ever seen. As Hermione's nimble fingers ran down Ron's flat stomach he could almost feel her touch, and when Ron nibbled and kissed Hermione's neck, it was as if it was his own neck.

They were the two people in the world who were the closest to him – and at that moment, whether it was the alcohol or real feelings – he wanted nothing more than to join them.

He closed his eyes. A small corner of his mind that hadn't been taken over by lust told him that his wishes were unreasonable – they had their own relationship, independent of him.

Sighing as he opened his eyes, a pair of blue eyes were staring at him. Ron looked devious as he was bent over Hermione, who was also watching him.

Perhaps he wasn't being so unreasonable.

-o-

His head felt light and his mind couldn't focus on much else than the girl in his arms. Except for that funny little voice reminding him that Harry was watching them and, in an odd way, the knowledge made him more excited.

Was it simply because he was getting it on with Hermione? Because he had the girl?

It was more, he thought. He couldn't stop looking at Harry from the corner of his eye, watching his reaction as they shed more articles of clothing.

It was like a game; he loved every moment of it and he knew that Hermione felt the same. The way she arched to his touch, the soft sounds of pleasure coming from her, making it easier for him to ask her permission.

"I think Harry is enjoying the show very much," he whispered in her ear.

"Mnmm."

"Should we … you know …?"

"Know what?" She whispered in a throaty, teasing voice.

"Ask … him … you know."

She looked at him pretending to be oblivious and he knew she was challenging him.

So he acted.

It happened in a blur. One moment he had Hermione in his arms, half-naked, and the next he was kissing someone else. Harry, his best friend. This was a huge leap of faith but his instincts insisted that he should give in to this crazy desire.

Harry was also giving in. They kissed with loud, open-mouthed kisses and it was everything at once. Hard, soft, intense, tender, and a thousand pieces falling into place.

And there was Hermione.

Breaking away from Harry, Ron looked over at her where she was lying on the bed and watching them with a look on her face he couldn't describe.

"You look …" He couldn't finish what he was about to say. That glint in her eyes – telling him how aroused she was, challenging him to bring her in.

Turning to Harry he saw hesitation in his eyes, like he was intruding, even after the kiss they'd just shared.

This didn't do at all. With an inner determination that he didn't really know he possessed, he reached out for Harry and pulled him towards him and Hermione. Almost forcefully, he pushed them together, wanting them to know that it was okay.

They were timid and unsure, like they had suddenly sobered up and were aware of the reality of the situation. Something he wasn't ready to face quite yet. At least not the horribly complicated reality of alternative relationships and sexual preferences and the whole "what does this mean for our friendship"-thing.

The reality that mattered now was that he was horny and drunk beyond his wits and he desperately wanted to get it on with his two best friends.

"Harry, she doesn't bite."

The ice-breaker that was needed, so to speak. Enough to spark the mischievous side of Hermione, who was quick to latch on to Harry's shoulder, playfully nibbling at it. Not wanting to feel left out for long, Ron went back to kissing Harry, on the lips as it were since Hermione was busying herself with other body parts.

While their first kiss had possessed all kinds of feelings and history, this kiss was him telling Harry what he wanted to do to, suck him, fuck him, and Harry seemed willing to listen to him, kissing back, his hands working their way down Ron's torso and finally grasping his erection.

They broke apart when Hermione rose up between them as if to remind Ron of her presence but all she wanted was to push Harry to his back, proceed to pull off his trousers and position herself between his legs.

Taking a deep breath, Ron watched as his girlfriend took his best friend's cock in her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with the effort. Perhaps he should’ve at least felt surprise that no pangs of jealousy hit him, but he was too busy thinking of the best way to join them.

His limbs were long enough for him to cover Hermione completely as she was on her hands and knees sucking Harry. Her neck was the first thing he attacked, inhaling her scent as he licked it, feeling her movements as her head bobbed up and down. The sight of Harry's cock disappearing into her mouth taunted him as he moved on, licking down her spine.

Pulling himself up, he sat on his heels and reached out to touch her inner thighs. He stroked his fingers upwards, touching the crotch of her knickers, the wet crotch. With a strange sense of delight, he slipped his fingers inside the elastic band. She arched slightly back into his touch, encouraging him to push his fingers inside her, to go even further. For a fraction of a second he hesitated before pulling her knickers off.

He and Hermione had had sex a couple of times before. All very awkward and he was pretty sure that it had been painful for her.

That wasn't something that worried him at the moment, seeing how she pushed herself back on his fingers. He knew he didn’t need to ask her.

Grasping her hips he eased himself into her. She was slick, hot and tight and he had to take a moment to marvel at how they all were physically connected. Him buried inside of Hermione who had her mouth full of Harry's cock.

Harry was raised up on his elbows watching her and then caught Ron looking intently at them. They looked each other in the eyes and in that one look conveyed everything from the dept of their devotion to each other and to Hermione, to the fact that they were two blokes, fucking the same girl at the same time.

Before, he'd tried to take things slowly, in part out of consideration for Hermione and in part to savour the brilliant feeling of being inside the most brilliant, sexy witch in the world. In the circumstances, though, it was impossible to not be controlled by the lust that thrummed in his veins, telling him to slam his hips into her, to bury himself to the hilt. The only thing he managed to resist was the urge to close his eyes. He couldn't, not with Harry's green eyes boring into him, not with that strong connection.

All too soon he was forced to close his eyes when his climax came rushing. He could hear, over the din of the blood pumping through his veins, that Harry was also coming.

When he came it was like falling off a broom stick and coming crashing down to earth without the pain of impact. It was almost like he could feel a thud when he slumped down, trying to be careful not to crush Hermione underneath him. Slowly, he rolled to the side, his half-hard cock slipping out of her. She was wiping Harry's come off her mouth and he couldn't resist pulling her to him, tasting Harry on her lips.

She broke away from him, looking from him to Harry with that irresistible look of mischief in her eyes.

"I feel left out, boys. I haven't come yet."

Being fully aware of this, Ron rushed forth, ready to dive between her legs. Stopping him by pushing him back, she shook her head and beckoned Harry to come closer. For a second, he felt disappointed.

"I want you two to fuck. Harry, I want you to fuck Ron."

She didn't use her bossy tone but it didn't occur to him to disobey her and he really didn't want to either. Plus, it would be hard for him to deny his enthusiasm, as his erection was returning fast.

And Harry seemed to be sold on the idea. Hook, line and sinker, from the look of it, as he crawled to towards him like a predator approaches its prey. That look alone sent powerful currents through Ron's spine.

"Tie his hands to the bedposts." Harry's voice sounded like a growl. Hermione reacted quickly, pulling her wand out from someplace. He was almost amazed that she remembered how to do magic at a moment like this but as the cords shot out from the tip of her wand, tying his wrists to the bedposts and leaving him open and exposed to Harry, all conscious thoughts evaporated rapidly. Instead he concentrated on biting his lip in order not to beg Harry to fuck him right away.

Perhaps to speed things up, Hermione turned to Harry and whispered some spell that left his hands glistening with a clear substance. The next thing Ron knew were Harry's slippery fingers invading him.

He felt like a champion when he didn't moan, experiencing that odd sense of being full as Harry added fingers, stretching him more and more. Hermione, on the other hand, didn't keep quiet, making keening sounds as Harry slicked up his cock. In some bizarre, frantic and desperate move to distract himself from what his best friend was about to do, he looked over at Hermione.

Seeing how she was burying her own fingers between her legs, pleasuring herself, was enough for him to give entirely up on conscious thought for now; she was a sight to behold, biting her lips, her eyes locked on the two of them, her fingers matching Harry's pace as he pushed inside him.

Drops of sweat were pearling on Harry's forehead and a part of Ron wanted to wipe them off. A greater part liked the restraints better, this being almost helpless, his legs wrapped around his best friend who was pumping into him, stroking his cock, filling him, making him feel a glorious mix of pleasure and pain.

With every stroke, every time Harry's hips slammed into him, he felt waves of his impending climax riding in on him. It was somehow a softer feeling than before, yet stronger, more forceful. His heart was pounding hard and he could feel how Harry was riding the same waves just ahead of him, tensing and then slowly sagging down as a red haze set over Ron's eyes, rendering him temporarily blind – allowing him only to hear Hermione come next to him with a loud cry, causing him to come almost twice as hard.

And they were complete.

-o-

She wasn't sure what had woken her. Her mouth felt dry and her head hurt, not to mention other body parts. Despite the results, it might be worth reconsidering, mixing sex with alcohol in large amounts. But she didn't feel bad. How could she?

Resting on her elbows, she looked over to see Harry snuggled up to Ron, just like she'd been seconds before.

This, rather than the cup of coffee she'd have later, was going to get her, and more importantly them, through. Gut-feelings weren't her speciality but this she knew instinctively.

With the pieces together, the puzzle would be solved. Eventually.

_finis_


End file.
